Strange Penpals
by ToothPasteCanyon
Summary: Dipper is stuck in the woods. It's a good thing he has his book, Stanford Pines, to keep him happy. Based on the Zodiac 10 AU created by SomniumofLight.


Dipper walked into the forest with his great uncle tucked underneath one arm. This would have been an impressive show of strength for a boy with such noodly arms, if the great uncle in question had not been transformed into a book.

Yes, transformed into a book. Unlike his family's transformations, he'd fallen into a deep sleep for the whole duration of it, completely unreachable by means both magical and mundane. All they could do was make sure he was in a comfortable bed and rotate him every hour to prevent bed sores. Then he started turning to paper and they kept rotating him. What else were they supposed to do?

Besides, they'd seen those pictures.

All this time, Dipper missed Ford. Not just because of his scientific expertise, though during the early stages the thought that a genius like him was working day and night on a cure was a reassuring one indeed. He missed his friend, the guy he could sit down over a game of DD&D with and unload all his worries to. He could do that with Mabel and Stan (poor Stan, turned to stone) as well, but they never had quite the right words, the understanding Dipper and Ford shared.

And Dipper was determined to bring that back. He had a theory of how to communicate with Ford, but he needed somewhere quiet, where he could concentrate.

Coming into a clearing, he stopped and looked around. The gentle rustling of the leaves was the only sound he could hear, and the cool air was the perfect temperature to counteract the shining sun. This was as good a place as it got to test his idea.

Dipper sat in the middle of the clearing, noting with annoyance the saplings and other plant life that sprouted around him. That was to be expected; hopefully, with Ford, they could find a way to stop it soon.

He placed the book that was Ford on his lap and opened it (him?), drawing a pen out of his pocket. He'd read passages before, but it was really rather interesting. Most of the book seemed to be pages from his three journals, but then there were entries like 'Glass Shard Beach' and 'Stanley Pines' and 'Zodiac Curse… What the Hell Is Going On?'

This was obviously a physical representation of his mind. Which was where his idea came in.

Taking the pen, Dipper flipped to a couple blank pages at the back of the book. He hesitated for the briefest of seconds – what if this didn't work? What if he just permanently marked the last thing they had of his great uncle with a cheap biro? – before putting tip to paper and penning a short greeting.

'Hello.'

Dipper expected something to happen, something to signify Ford was listening. His heart sank when the first few moments gave no indication, but then a black mark - no, a line – no, a letter – appeared below his message.

In Stanford's beautiful cursive, it read: 'Dipper?'

"Yes!" Dipper sat forwards. "Oh my gosh, Great Uncle Ford, it's really you!"

A pause. "Oh, yeah. Gotta write it down." He wrote 'I'm so happy to see you!' on the page and waited for the answer. It came swiftly.

'I'm beyond happy to talk to you, my boy. I've been stuck in my mind for what feels like years. How are you contacting me?'

'I'm writing in you.' He wrote. 'You're a book.'

There was a pause, and then: 'I'm a book?'

Dipper cringed. "Oh, this is awkward." To Ford, he wrote: 'Everyone's turned into monsters. We have no idea how to cure it. Do you?'

Ford didn't reply for a moment – obviously thinking about what to say – so Dipper looked around. Those creepy saplings had formed a ring around him, and with a grunt of annoyance he stood up and walked to a new spot.

At least, he tried to. His feet wouldn't budge.

"Huh?" Dipper looked down to see his brown shoes, and then it occurred to him that he didn't wear brown shoes. "What's going on?"

He bent down to feel his feet, and brushed against a hard, rough surface. It felt almost like... bark. What was going on?

A second more of struggling and it occurred to him: he was transforming. It was the only reasonable explanation; all the others had gone through some sort of change. Mabel turned into a star. Stan turned into stone. He was turning into a tree, out here, far from the Mystery Shack, alone.

Oh god. _Oh god_. This couldn't be happening.

"Let me out!" He strained to free himself, to no avail. "I don't wanna stay here! Help!"

Dipper only succeeded in falling on his back, which was rather painful when there were no legs to break his fall. He sat forwards, spared one glance down at his legs, and took a deep breath. He needed to be calm about this.

He fished out a phone from his pocket and dialled his sister, which threw up an error message about the poor reception. He texted her instead, telling her he was stuck somewhere north of the Shack. That was all he could be certain about; hopefully it would narrow the search field a little.

And... now what? Dipper sat back, looking up at the sky. At least it was a nice day outside, for now. Hopefully somebody found him before it got dark, or rainy.

A rustle of pages brought his attention back to Ford's book. He picked it up, and to his shock and dismay, saw a number of panicked messages scrawled on the pages.

'I'm sorry, Dipper, but I don't have any answers. I'm sorry it's not the answer you were likely hoping for, but I'm sure together we can figure this out. In the meantime, is Stanley around?'

'Dipper? Are you there?'

'If you're there, please answer.'

'To anybody who reads this, my nephew Dipper Pines may be in serious trouble.'

With a surge of guilt, Dipper quickly responded.

'I'm here!'

'Thank the multiverse you're alright. What happened?'

Dipper glanced down at his legs. What happened, indeed.

'It's hard to explain.'

'Do try, my boy. I would appreciate the mental challenge.'

In a few rambling paragraphs, Dipper explained where he was and what had happened. He finished with, 'What should I do?'

Ford was silent for a moment, then, 'My best advice would be to sit tight. They will find us, and in the meantime we have each other.'

Dipper nodded. It was sensible advice, if a little obvious. He was struck by a little idea. 'Can you do tic tac toe?'

'Only one way to find out. Hold on.' Four intersecting lines formed at the bottom of the page. "Hmm, that was easier than I had anticipated. Anyway, noughts or crosses?'

They played a little while as the sun set, always ending in draws (or the occasional win from Ford; Dipper was quite distracted by the creep of bark up his legs) As they played, Ford took the opportunity to ask after his family. How was Mabel? What happened to McGucket? And Stanley?

Ford took the news of his brother's petrification hard. The game they were playing faded, and the overall pages seemed to darken slightly.

'There's no way to communicate? No way at all?'

'Sorry, Great Uncle Ford. Believe me, we tried everything. Mabel in particular.'

'I believe you.' A pause. 'We will find a cure, Dipper. No matter how hopeless it seems, we need to persevere.'

Dipper nodded. In lack of some other way to convey it, he wrote, 'I'm nodding.'

'I'm glad to hear it, my boy. Tell me, what does the sky look like?'

'It's getting pretty late. Why?'

'I haven't seen the sky in weeks.'

Reddening, Dipper resolved to give a better explanation. 'The sky is... dark orange. You can see the stars at the opposite end of the sun.'

'Interesting. It must be getting difficult to see my pages.'

It was true; he was squinting. 'I can use my phone. Up for more tic tac toe?'

'That's getting old. I can do much better.' Dipper frowned, watching the pages of writing fade away... to be replaced all at once by graphs, maps and character creation sheets. He stared at them in surprise, the realisation dawning on him.

'Is this... DD&D? Are you doing this all with your mind?'

'Yes.' Ford wrote in the margins. 'Now, let's get started!'

Dipper got started with earnest, and five hours later, the search parties found him by the sound of his dramatic reading of the scenario 'Princess Unattainabelle and Her Goblin Guards'. Mabel tackled him in a hug at the first chance she got.

"You're alright! I forgot my phone when I went to check on Robbie, and I came back and... I was so worried!" She floated back, wiping her eyes. "You're a tree now? Yeesh, I know people say you're the grounded twin, but this is taking it a little far!"

"Ha ha. Very funny."

"I'm here all week. But seriously, what are we going to do? Pull you out of the ground?"

Dipper winced. "Let's not try anything too extreme. I don't know what we'll do, but you know my theory about Ford's book? It was right!"

"It was!" He started to hand his sister the book, but realised it was more than twice her size. "Do you want me to say anything to him for you? He's been asking for you all evening."

Mabel floated over his shoulder. "Oh my gosh, tell him hi! And that I missed him! And that I can fly! I used to be able to float, but this is different and way cooler! And-"

"Whoa, slow down. I can't write that fast."

"Then write faster!" She pressed his shoulder. "I've got too many things to tell him to wait for your green fingers, bro bro!"

Dipper rolled his eyes, grinned, and kept writing. In spite of everything that had happened, he had the feeling that everything was going to be alright.


End file.
